He little recked the evening air
Blew bitterly without;
Heedless of pelting storms that came
To drench his friend's dyspeptic frame,
He joined the merry rout.

But underneath the corner light
Lingered the impecunious Knight--
Wet, hungry and alone--
Hoping that from Sir Slosson some
Encouragement mayhap would come,
Or from the Fair Unknown._

The drawing in this verse marks the beginning of the transfer of our
patronage from the steaks and gamblers' frowns of Billy Boyle's to
the oysters and the cricket's friendly chirps of the Boston Oyster
House. The reference to Field's "dyspeptic frame" is not without its
significance, for it was about this time that he became increasingly
conscious of that weakness of the stomach that grew upon him and
began to give him serious concern.

How Field seized upon my absence from the city for the briefest visit
to bombard me with queer and fanciful letters, found another
illustration during Christmas week, 1885, which I spent with a house
party at Blair Lodge, the home of Walter Cranston Larned, whom I have
already mentioned as the possessor of Field's two masterpieces in
color. Each day of my stay was enlivened by a letter from Field. As
they are admirable specimens of the wonderful pains he took with
letters of this sort, and the expertness he attained in the command
of the archaic form of English, I need no excuse for introducing them
here. The first, which bears date "December 27th, 1385," was written
on an imitation sheet of old letter paper, browned with dirt and
ragged edged. In the order of receipt these letters were as follows:

Soothly, sweet Sir, by thy hegira am I brought into sore distress and
grievous discomfiture; for not only doth that austere man, Sir
Melville, make me to perform prodigies of literary prowess, but all
the other knights do laugh me to scorn and entreat me shamelessly
when I be an hungered and do importune them for pelf whereby I may
compass victual. Aye, marry, by my faith, I swear't, it hath gone ill
with me since you strode from my castle in the direction of the
province wherein doth dwell Sir Walter, the Knight of the Tennis and
Toboggan. I beseech thee to hie presently unto me, or at least to
send silver or gold wherewith I may procure cheer--else will it go
hard with me, mayhap I shall die, in which event I do hereby name and
constitute thee executor of my estates and I